Damn Shame
by thatcaliber
Summary: Dean was sitting at Sam's bedside when he woke up, looked Dean in the eyes and whispered, "Who are you?" in the most scared and confused voice Dean had ever heard from his brother. He then proceeded to panic, flailing his arms and tangling himself in his blankets.


Dean sat by Sam's bed every single day until he woke up. After they watched the angels fall from the sky Sam had gone unconscious and it had taken him six days to wake up. Almost a week. Nearly a full week of Dean doing nothing but panicking and crying and watching over his Sammy. Dean didn't take him to the hospital because he knew that this wasn't something they could fix. Instead he tucked Sam into his own bed back at the Bat Cave and fed him and cleaned him up himself.

Dean was sitting at Sam's bedside when he woke up, looked Dean in the eyes and whispered, "Who are you?" in the most scared and confused voice Dean had ever heard from his brother. He then proceeded to panic, flailing his arms and tangling himself in his blankets.

Dean did his best to calm him down, though in hindsight reaching out and touching Sam probably wasn't the best decision he'd ever made considering it only made Sam screech at the top of his lungs, "Don't touch me! I don't even know who you are! Where am I? Why am I here?"

Dean tried to meet Sam's flurry of words with his own, "I'm your brother! You're in our place! You were hurt! The trials, Sam!"

Sam was now backed up in the corner of the room, his eyes wide like a frightened animal, but his instincts had kicked in and his fists were up, prepared to beat the hell out of Dean if he came anywhere near him. His eyes were searching the room for a weapon of any sort.

Dean put his hands up in surrender, preparing to step towards Sam but thinking better of it.

"I don't know who I am," Sam said very quietly. "I know that I went to Stanford and I wanted to be a lawyer. I know that my girlfriend Jess died in a fire. I know that I don't really have any friends. I remember bits and pieces of my life, but I don't know who I _am_."

"Listen, I'm your brother, Dean Winchester. You're Sam Winchester. We're hunters. You were unconscious for a week after we stopped you from doing the demon trials."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about who you are, Sam. Just listen to me, please," Dean was wearing his best all-knowing-grown-up face, trying to appear in control, but the truth was that he was confused and scared too. Granted, probably not nearly as badly as Sam, but still pretty confused. "I know you're not going to want to believe this, but I'm not going to hurt you. I am not going to attack you. I did not kidnap you. You are my little brother and you lost your memory. I'm not sure why yet. I know that you were really sick right before you went unconscious and that you almost died. I brought you back home and have spent the last week trying to nurse you back to health."

"Why should I believe you?" Sam asked, but his eyes were losing some of their fear. Dean's words must have been ringing true somewhere inside of him.

"Because what other choice do you have? I know this is hard for you, but I wouldn't lie to you about this. I only want to help you. And honestly, there's no one else you can go to. We don't have anyone else. It's just us."

"We don't have any other family?"  
"No. It's kind of a side effect of our job."

"What kind of insane job would we choose to do that killed our entire family?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean could barely contain a bitter chuckle. "I don't know if I'd say we really chose it, but we're hunters. And before you ask, no, not the kind that hunts deer. We hunt monsters."

"Monsters?" Sam asked. Dean wouldn't have thought his face could have gotten any more dubious than it was after the insane job comment, but there it was.

"Yes. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons. In fact, demons are exactly why you're in this predicament. You were doing a set of trials that were supposed to put all demons back in hell forever, but I stopped you because it was going to kill you."

"So, I've got to ask," Sam said, waving a hand in front of himself, "if this is all true, I'm going to assume demons kill a lot of people, right?"

"Right."

"So why would you stop me from doing these trials? One man is surely a small sacrifice to save a billion more."

Sam. Always the martyr. "Could we not talk about that?" Dean almost snapped. "I'm a selfish prick, okay?"

"Sorry," Sam said, actually looking a little apologetic after hearing Dean's tone. "Why do we do this job?"

"Because a demon killed our mom."

"Oh."

They were quiet for a while as Sam seemed to reevaluate his situation. Finally he said, "So, is there a computer I can use to research and figure out this amnesia business?" Some things really never did change.

"So it looks like I probably have hysterical amnesia," Sam said, his eyes still on the screen as he talked to Dean. "There are many different kinds, but hysterical amnesia is generally related to a traumatic event, which is exactly what this demon trial thing sounds like, and is about the only kind that causes a loss of sense of self. It also covers specific sets of memories, which explains why I remember Stanford, but not you or hunting."

"Oh, cute," Dean said sarcastically.

"Here's the thing though, this kind of amnesia usually clears up within a 48 hours, even without help. Hypnosis is supposed to help, though I imagine you don't want to take me to a doctor considering the story about how I got this way. Which would be a perfect cover-up if you'd kidnapped me by the way."

"Really, Sam? Really?"

"I'm just sayin'" he laughed. Dean laughed with him. They laughed harder than they should have at a joke that really didn't warrant more than a hearty chuckle. They both just really needed to get some frustration out. It was amazing how comfortable Sam already was with him, considering he didn't remember him at all. When they stopped laughing Sam looked at Dean for a few heartbeats longer than necessary, his smile still lingering on his lips. Dean nervously licked his lower lip, averting his eyes.

Sam looked back at his computer, still not relinquishing the lazy smile.

In the morning Sam still hadn't recovered his memory, which, while not surprising, was disappointing. Dean was in the kitchen making breakfast for them when Sam came in, fresh from his shower. His hair was slicked back and it was long enough that it left a large dark wet mark on the shoulders of his light grey t-shirt. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Dean as he flipped the eggs. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on his back and he resisted the urge to squirm. What was that twerp looking at anyway? He gruffly finished cooking the eggs, moving to put them on their plates.

Sam, on the other hand, had one question rising above the billion others in his mind and that was, _"Was I this attracted to you_ before _I lost my memory?"_ He felt that he shouldn't ask that though. Dean would probably react pretty badly to incest. Not that he would know though. He followed Dean to the table at sat down to eat. He found it pretty difficult to take his eyes off Dean. It was like since he had forgotten all of the other times in his life he'd gotten to look at Dean, his brain was desperately trying to refill that space as quickly as possible.

It took Dean about eight hours to finally break. "Why do you keep looking at me Sam?" he nearly screeched. He'd been feeling anxious all day under Sam's scrutiny.

"Why is me looking at you a problem?" Sam countered.

"Dude, fuck you, don't even start with me."

"I'm just confused and I'm trying to figure out my life."

"That's not why. I can tell you're lying."

"Well I don't know what else to tell you," Sam said stubbornly.

Dean decided that getting Sam drunk off his ass was the best fun he could possibly have with an amnesiac brother. He also knew that if Sam were in his right mind he would never allow Dean to convince him to take eight shots of straight whiskey by the time the night was over, on top of the beers he'd been nursing. Sam, not a habitual drinker by any means, was schnockered.

It was fun for a while, Sam making faces with each drink and getting increasingly worse with each poker game they played. The thing about Sam when drunk, though, was that he got not only incredibly cuddly, but also said whatever popped into his gigantic head. That was how it came out.

"You are just so attractive," he slurred, pulling Dean's face between his massive hands. "So fucking attractive." He was looking straight into Deans eyes with this serious look as if to be sure that Dean understood exactly what he was saying, like he thought Dean might think he was speaking another language.

"I know, I'm pretty sexy," Dean said, trying to make a joke and uncomfortably swatting Sam's hands away and walking to the other side of the room where the table was so he could put the whiskey away.

"You don't understand," Sam whined from the other side of the room. "I can't stop looking at you."

"I've noticed, remember?" Dean said.

"I wish I could stop, but I can't. You said we're brothers, but a brother shouldn't feel this way about another brother," he was whispering now, his eyes drooping as he started to fall asleep.

Dean was wide awake though and a shiver was winding its way down his spine. He knew what Sam meant, but he didn't want to know. Knowing made it harder to act like it didn't happen.

Dean gathered himself, "Come on, buddy. I think it's time for you to go to bed."

Sam allowed himself to be led to his bed and Dean laid him down fully clothed. He had a feeling that removing Sam's clothing might give him the wrong idea in this state. Dean was about to leave when Sam pulled his face into his hands again and said, "I can't believe I've never kissed you before. I've never kissed you, right?"

"No, and you never will," Dean said, breaking free and patting his brother's shoulder awkwardly before walking away.

"Damn shame," he heard Sam whisper into his pillow as Dean shut the door behind himself.

Sam groaned awake the next morning. His face was all scrunched up with effort and try as he may he couldn't seem to straighten it back out. "Why?" he moaned into the empty room. "Why would I let him do this to me?"

He heard Dean chuckle from the hallway. He opened the door, carrying with him a paper bag. "Here, get some grease in you," he said holding out the burger bag.

"No, please," Sam wailed. "Just thinking about it makes me want to die."

"Your loss," Dean said, taking the burger from the bag and taking a bite himself. "Let's go get you some painkillers and a glass of water then," he said, helping Sam up and to the table.

He set the bottle of ibuprofen and the water in front of Sam. "I've got toast in the works. You should probably eat _something_."

"Dean," Sam said very seriously. "I'm sorry about last night."

"It's fine," Dean said without meeting his eyes.

"No it's not. I can't imagine how awkward that made you feel."

"Really Sam, we don't have to talk about it."

"But I want to talk about it and clear the air."

"You always do," Dean mumbled.

"What?" Sam said. He'd heard him, but he didn't know how else to respond.

"Toast is probably getting cold," Dean said, walking towards the kitchen.

"Dean," Sam said, getting up and following him. "I just want you to know that while I meant what I said, it doesn't really…_mean_...anything?" he said, unsure of which words he wanted to use. "I'm going to be back to normal in a few days, probably. If I ever found you attractive before I obviously never said anything, so we can just go back to that."

"But you're saying things now, Sam," Dean said matter-of-factly. "You even just said you meant it. Why did you have to say that? I don't want to think about it, Sam. It's wrong. But you keep talking about it. And it's going to be awfully hard to act like nothing happened if you keep fucking _bringing it up_. So shut your mouth."

Sam sighed, grabbed his toast, and walked out of the kitchen.

At the 48 hour mark—the one specified by Sam's research—Sam was not any better. In fact, he still wasn't better at the 72 hour mark. Dean was starting to lose a little faith. He was also feeling endlessly increasing guilt. There were two things that he felt almost all the time now: Sam's eyes on him and the stirrings in his belly. He didn't want to admit that he found Sam attractive too and that he always had. He had an inkling that Sam had always found him attractive, too, but they never crossed that line. Brothers didn't _cross that line_.

But with every butterfly in Dean's belly and every tingle in his cock when he felt Sam watching him, he felt the shame filling up his body. The truth was that he wanted to be with his brother the same way his brother wanted to be with him right now and that was fucked up. There was no way he could allow that to happen. But Sam kept looking at him with that need in his eyes and he couldn't help but want to alleviate that need. He couldn't do that, though. They were brothers after all.

That was how he ended up on the laptop looking at the slash fiction that had come out of the Supernatural books Chuck had written. God, he felt so guilty.

"_Sam let go of Dean's cock so that he could grab the back of Dean's neck and pull his head back. The tendons in his neck strained as Sam bit down hard. Dean fisted both hands into Sam's hair. Sam continued to drill into Dean, and then came with a great moan, slamming hard into Dean one last time. Dean could feel Sam pulsing inside him and the sensation as well as the knowledge that Sam had come inside him had him just short of over the edge."_

Dean's cock was hard and heavy in his jeans. He'd read two or three stories before he couldn't stand it anymore and began to rub the palm of his hand over the lump in is jeans. That was when Sam came clomping into the room behind him. You'd think Dean would have heard him, but to be fair, the blood was rushing in his ears a little. Though, to be fair to Sam, Dean probably shouldn't have been doing that at the table.

"What are you doing?" he said taken aback.

"Sam! What the fuck? Get out of here!" Dean yelled, reaching up to shut the laptop, but it was too late.

"Did that just say, 'Dean grabbed Sam's ass'?" Sam could barely contain a chuckle.

"You're just being a dick right now, Sam," Dean said angrily.

Sam ignored the obvious dick joke he could make there and instead said, "Dean, I know you don't want to, but I feel like we should talk about this."

"You're damn right I don't want to!"

"Dean, we need to. I've seen how jumpy you've been."

"That's because you won't quit looking at me!"

"Dean, I think I'm not the only one feeling the way I am," Sam said sitting next to him.

"What the hell does it matter? It's not like we can do anything," Dean growled.

"Honestly, Dean, who cares? Who is going to know?"

"You will, when you're back to having all of your memories!"

Sam was quiet for a moment, acknowledging the truth of the statement. "But here's the thing," he finally said, "These feelings, strong as they are, probably didn't come from nowhere. I imagine they were there all along. So maybe I'll understand when I'm me again."

"What if you don't though?" Dean looked sadly down at his hands.

"Dean, I think that you could get me to believe anything," Sam said earnestly and the way he said it made Dean realize the truth of it. He suddenly felt ashamed of that, too. There had been times before that he had convinced Sam of things that he shouldn't have. There were times that he used that against Sam for his own sake. Would that be the case now, too?

"I don't know if that's a good thing, Sam," was all he could say.

"Dean, please believe me when I say that, at least right now, I want you. I want you with everything I am. Maybe I'm only finally saying something about it because I can't remember that we're brothers. With that removed all that remains is this incredible need to just show you how much you deserve to be loved. Deep in my bones I know that I love you more than anything else in this world. Maybe I can't remember why, but I know that it's true," Sam said, pleading with his eyes.

"Sam," Dean said softly, looking so tortured that Sam couldn't bear it.

"We don't have to do anything; I really just need you to know before I'm too sane to say anything. I would never make you do something you didn't want to," Sam said, pulling Dean's hand into his to try to convey his sincerity.

Dean, for once, didn't pull away. He just allowed his hand to lie limply in Sam's. "That's the problem though; I want to do something, but I'm afraid _you_ won't, when you have all your sense back. I also know what people would think."

"Like I said," Sam said gently, "what people? You make it sound like we live the world's most solitary life, so who would even know? You don't have friends, Dean," Sam joked.

"I suppose that's a point," Dean almost smiled.

"Also, I can't possibly imagine not wanting you like I do right now. All I can imagine is the sheer insanity I must have faced keeping it under wraps for so long. I just know in a place I can't explain that I have had these feelings all along," Sam said, squeezing Dean's hand firmly.

Dean finally met Sam's eyes, letting all of his guilt and worry flow from them.

Sam couldn't help but lean forward and kiss Dean gently on the lips.

To Sam's almost-surprise, Dean kissed him back, hard. It was like the dam had broken and suddenly there was no turning back. It started slowly at first, with Dean kissing Sam, pulling back, then kissing him again, harder this time. Sam, with shaky fingers, touched Dean's hand. Dean laced his fingers through Sam's and Sam gently put his palm on Dean's cheek. Dean turned his head to get a better angle, opening his mouth slightly and inviting Sam in.

Initially Dean could still feel the guilt heavy in his belly, but it was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the thousands of butterflies taking flight there as well. They pushed off that rock of shame, floating warmly and gently into every crevice of his body. Before he knew it his whole being was alight with the touches of a thousand tiny wings and those wings made him want to move, to touch, to feel. So he did.

He unlaced his fingers from Sam's, choosing instead to run them along his arm, over his shoulder, up his neck, down his chest. Sam shivered lightly under his touch. Dean slowly unbuttoned Sam's plaid shirt, running his hand under it and over the newly freed skin. He cupped his hand on Sam's hip, feeling the soft warmth of his skin contrasted against the sharp solidity of his hipbone. He then ran his hand up Sam's side and across his chest.

Sam couldn't believe it was finally happening. He was sure that if he had all of his memories he'd be even more incredulous than he was now. Part of him was almost entirely certain that he was dreaming, while the other part could surely feel Dean under his fingertips and lips. Dean was there, touching him in all the ways he'd wanted to be touched, kissing him like he'd never thought he'd be kissed. The surprise paired with incredible need had every muscle in his body quaking.

Sam pulled back breathless and asked, "Are you sure Dean? This doesn't ha—"

"Don't ask me questions like that right now, Sam," Dean whispered onto his lips as he pressed forward and kissed him again. "Not right now, maybe not ever. I don't want to think."

Well, Sam knew how to make Dean not think. He kissed Dean, hard this time, teeth almost clashing with the sheer ferocity of it, and guided Dean out of his chair and down the hall towards his bedroom. He shrugged off his already unbuttoned shirt on the way, pressing Dean firmly into the wall with his body before momentarily breaking their kiss to remove Dean's own. He almost had to do a double take at the hand burned right into Dean's skin. The scar was huge and strangely beautiful. He told himself to be sure to ask about it when he wasn't feeling like ripping every bit of Dean's clothes off and fucking him until he screamed.

He put his hand on the back of Dean's head before slamming it into the wall and grinding his chest against the hot skin of his brother's. Dean almost gasped a moan into Sam's mouth, but he was still holding onto the barest morsel of control. He didn't want all of his desperation and hunger pouring out of him just yet. He had a feeling that it would before the night was over, especially if Sam kept man-handling him like this, but not yet, not yet. He could hold on at least a few moments longer.

Sam cupped Dean's ass firmly in his hand, pressing Dean's hard cock into his own through their jeans. Still holding Dean's head, but now pulling it back for a good shot at his neck, Sam nipped and kissed every piece of skin he could. Dean was panting in his ear, the barest breaths of moans ghosting out every so often. He could tell that Dean was trying to maintain control and he planned to completely shatter that control.

Sam led him the rest of the way to the bedroom, throwing him roughly down on the mattress and climbing on top. Dean looked up at him with eyes absolutely swimming with desire. Sam placed his hands on either side of Dean's waist, holding tightly, and then kissed all over Dean's chest. He darted his tongue out quickly a few times when he reached Dean's nipple and it perked up immediately. He did the same to the other and then, pleased with is work, kissed down the middle of Dean's belly to the button of his jeans. He unbuttoned them and pulled them and his boxers off in a few smooth movements.

Dean was heavy and hot when Sam took him into his hands and rubbed the pre-come leaking from the tip around with his thumb. Dean took special care to not allow his back to arch. Sam noticed.

"Still fighting, I see," Sam said huskily.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said back a little breathlessly.

"Of course you don't," Sam said as he bent down and took Dean's penis into his mouth. He braced himself by placing his hands on Dean's sides again and took his time dragging his tongue up and down, his lips tightly closed over the veiny flesh. Dean tangled his fingers into the blanket, breathing heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Sam pulled away, kissing Dean wetly on the mouth. Dean could taste his own sweat on Sam's tongue. Sam stood up away from Dean and pulled his own jeans and boxers off, his erection springing from their hold. Dean knew Sam was big, but _damn Sam was big_.

Sam crawled back on top of Dean, his hot thighs pressed against Dean's. Reality was starting to hit him again at the realization that he was now fully naked in bed with his brother and he began to get cold feet. Sam could see the scared look in his eyes so he placed his hand gently on Dean's cheek, leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. Dean reciprocated, his fear taking a back seat to the love he felt bursting from him at that moment. He placed both hands on Sam's face, trying to show as much of that love he possibly could. He could feel Sam's smile on his lips.

Sam lowered his pelvis until it was pressed firmly against Dean's. Dean opened his mouth in a silent gasp. Sam moved slowly up and down, sliding their cocks together. He lifted himself up with his arms, looking down at Dean with the sexiest shit-eating grin Dean had ever seen. While still balancing on one arm and his knees, Sam reached down with the other one and put his big hand around both of their cocks, jacking them up and down together. Dean couldn't help it when his hips bucked and Sam chuckled, knowing that Dean was definitely in a losing battle with his control.

"Why don't you just give up? Let it all out Dean."

Dean didn't even answer. Sam laughed again, gave one more good thrust against Dean, and then got up to get the lube he kept in his bedside table. He came back and crawled atop Dean again, lifting him and tossing him a little further up on the bed. Dean landed with a puff of sheets and blankets, a big grin on his face. "You're pretty rough Sammy."

"You said you didn't want to think. I figure fucking your brains out should do the trick," Sam said, slicking up his fingers.

"We'll see," Dean countered.

Sam spread Dean's legs and pressed a finger to his hole. Dean breathed in sharply, pulling away a bit. This was very new to him.

"It'll be okay, Dean," Sam said calmly. "I won't hurt you."

Dean nodded, forcing himself to relax a little.

Sam slid the first finger in and now Dean did gasp. It didn't hurt, but it was a very new feeling. Sam moved his finger, slowly and gently exploring Dean, working him open. He ran his finger over Dean's prostate and Dean moaned, low and deep in his throat.

"There we go," Sam crowed quietly.

"Screw you," Dean panted.

"That's the general idea."

Sam slipped another finger in, stretching Dean further, reaching out with his other hand and lacing his fingers through Dean's. Dean squeezed his hand tightly, little moans bursting from his mouth. He worked Dean like that for some time, eventually adding a third, making sure he was ready. When he pulled his fingers out Dean whimpered.

Sam slid up Dean's body and whispered in his ear, "I feel like I've got your control pretty destroyed Dean."

"Sam, please, would you just shut up and fuck me?" Dean growled.

"Sure thing, Princess," Sam laughed, giving Dean's ear a quick flick with his tongue before pulling back and bracing one of his hands on Dean's knee. He used the other one to guide himself to Dean's hole and press slowly in.

Dean cried out loudly and Sam smiled down at him. "Officially broken."

Dean gave him a look and grabbed the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down and looking him in the eyes. "You better get to screwing me right now, Sam, or so help me."

Sam laughed, thrusting into Dean hard. "Whatever you say."

Sam reached out, quickly pinning Dean's hands above his head with one hand. He braced himself on the other one and then began thrusting into Dean hard, but slowly. He would thrust as deeply as he could, pull almost all the way out, then wait a moment and watch Dean squirm before thrusting in again.

Dean cried out with every thrust, the veins in his neck standing out. Sam had a feeling that he wasn't thinking much. He picked up his pace, ramming into Dean so quickly and roughly that the headboard was slamming into the wall, making noise. Not as much noise as Dean, though. Dean was beyond himself, moaning loudly, his voice cracking in his throat. Sam was fairly certain that Dean wasn't thinking at all anymore.

And he was about right. Dean's thoughts were a flurry of syllables; there was nothing intelligible to be found in his head. He started crying out bits of those syllables, trying to enunciate the sheer pleasure he was overwhelmed with, but it came out just like it sounded in his head. "OhSam—oh SamSamSammypleaseSam—God oh—Sa—oh!"

Sam released Dean's wrists, dropping to his forearms on either side of Dean's head so that he could kiss him, hard and sloppy. Dean moaned his name into his mouth, causing Sam to thrust harder. Dean reached up and buried both hands in Sam's hair, pulling it in the most delightful way. "Oh Dean," he growled into his brother's neck. It smelled like sweat and Dean's cologne, a scent that drove Sam crazy.

Dean moved his hands to dig his fingernails into his brother's ass and bit down hard on Sam's shoulder, stifling his cries. Sam moaned into his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Sam then kissed every bit of flesh he could reach. "Oh Dean," he purred in Dean's ear. "I'm com—coming," he said with a loud cry. Dean could feel his brother pulsing in him, and that paired with Sam's beautifully pathetic moans as he rocked out the last of his orgasm had Dean coming, too. He pulled his teeth from Sam's shoulder, moaning powerfully as his come shot between their bellies.

After some time Sam pulled out. Dean felt Sam's come go rushing out of him in a great burst and he gasped. Sam smiled and laid his head down over Dean's shoulder. Dean let his head fall back onto the pillow by Sam's and listened to his brother pant in his ear. He was breathing heavily himself and he could feel his come between them, making them both slick. He kissed Sam's cheekbone, his ear, his hair. He could only reach so much, but he touched his lips to everything he could. He then leaned his head against Sam's and closed his eyes. He couldn't help the smile on his face. He had one hand on Sam's lower back and he threw the other above his head.

After while Sam said, "Thank you Dean. I know that was hard for you."

"Only a little. Like I said, I wanted to do it too, Sam. I just didn't want to take advantage of you," he said, his eyes still closed. He was breathing in the scent of Sam's hair. "I'm still pretty scared that when you've got all of your memories back you will freak out."

Sam lifted himself up with his arms, looking Dean sadly in the eyes. "I can't promise you that I won't, but I really don't think I will freak out too much. I'll probably be a little scared, just like you are, but I don't think I'll ever be able to regret this, even with all of my faculties."

Sam reached out, pressing his fingertips to Dean's. He felt each one separately, the love deep in his belly swelling, trying to burst out. Dean looked him in the eyes with much the same feeling. "If I know anything, which might not be a lot right now, but if I really know anything true, it is this: I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be. This feels right and good to me in every single cell of my body. Touching you, holding you, being with you? Nothing could feel better. I belong here with you Dean. And you belong with me."

Dean didn't know what to say, but he couldn't deny the truth he also felt in Sam's words. Instead he laced his fingers through Sam's and kissed him softly. Finally he said, "I think you're right, Sammy."

They were quiet a while again before Sam whispered, "I know why you stopped me from doing the trials, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean mumbled back.

"Yeah. Because if you love me about half as much as I love you, you'd never ever want anything bad to happen to me. You'd do anything to not lose me."

Dean's heart thudded heavily in his chest. "That's generally what we do, yeah," he whispered. "We've been told many times that we're 'dangerously codependent'."

"I don't even care if that's true. I can't imagine wanting to be with anyone as much as I want to be with you," Sam mumbled into his neck, starting to fall asleep.

"Me either," Dean said honestly.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you have that massive hand burned into your shoulder?"

"Because I went to hell and an angel pulled me out. An angel's true form is pure energy, so it burned me."

"I can't believe there are angels," Sam said dreamily. "They must be so nice."

"Not really," Dean laughed. "They're mostly assholes. Cas is cool, though; he's the one that saved me. You really like him."

"Why did you go to hell, Dean? Who did that to you?" Sam asked, his breath trailing lazily over Dean's neck.

"I did it to myself to save you. You died and I made a deal with a demon to bring you back at the expense of my own soul because you're right—I can't bear to lose you. I went through it once, for a whole year. It's the worst thing I've ever had to go through, and I've gone through a lot."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, but Dean had felt his body stiffen up. "Dean," he said, sounding much more awake, "you went to hell for me." It wasn't a question, but a startled statement. "You sacrificed your soul for _me_."

"Yeah, I did," Dean said. He could see why Sam would be so surprised without his memories to tell him that that's just the sort of thing they did for each other.

"Do you realize how absolutely stupidly amazing that is? What kind of love it takes to do that?"

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"I was right about one more thing Dean."

"What's that?"

"I'm meant to be here with you. You don't do that sort of thing for someone who you aren't meant to love and be next to for all of eternity."

It took Sam two more days to get his memories back—an awfully long time for that kind of amnesia. Dean supposed Sam had gone through a lot more than most people, though. Sam woke up next to him in bed (they'd been sleeping together since the night the dam finally broke) and sat up, confused. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean mumbled, still half asleep.

"What is…? What happ…?"

And Dean knew then. He bolted up straight, looking at Sam like a bad puppy. "Sam? Are you okay?" he asked. His heart was breaking already. Here it came.

"Did we…?" Sam asked, still unable to finish a sentence.

"Yeah," Dean said quietly, hardly able to look at Sam through his guilt.

Sam was quiet for a very long time, thinking and remembering.

"You know, Dean, I was right about three things. Actually, let's make that four."

"What's that?" Dean asked, not quite ready to accept the relief he was starting to feel. Things could still go very wrong.

"Number three is that the feelings had been there all along."

"Oh," was all Dean could muster. His heart was trying to leap out his throat. "What's the fourth?" He was almost scared to ask.

"It really was a damn shame that I'd never kissed you before. I can't believe that's what I've been missing."

Dean laughed, his joy bursting forward with full force. Sam was always surprising him.


End file.
